and in this depressing tableau
we have unbearable cuddling
on sheehan’s convoy. this eve
ning’s proxy hidden under the
mess of us. fixated on the sna
zzy numbers we rip into sadr
city, suspecting that it appears
we are delivering a buckling
blow to the troops. it’s another
mandate, this cookie left to
plunder iraq while the colonel
simonizes militiamen. casey
at bat, we feel benevolently at
ease, yet, soldier, we’ve run amok.
